


For the Sole Purpose of Procreation

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Feels, Marriage Consummation, Marriage of Convenience, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: After the War for the Dawn has been won, Jon Snow marries his cousin Sansa Stark for the sole purpose of rebuilding the North and continuing their House.





	For the Sole Purpose of Procreation

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for the Tumblr challenge but wound up submitting something else fairly similar for Free Choice Day. But, I liked this enough to post it anyway.
> 
> This is more book 'verse, no marriage to Ramsey and I've kept Sansa a maid. Jon is king because of Robb's will.

_“I know it’ll be strange at first but we have a duty to our people, Jon,” she’d argued beside the Heart Tree. “We have a responsibility to our house and our family, too.  It would be for the sole purpose of...”_

_“Sansa…I can’t ask you to do this. Do you really want to do this?”_

_“A king and queen must think of their people above their own desires. It will be…awkward but you said any children you had would be Starks.”_

 

 _Few things could be more awkward than this_ , Jon thought as he eased his cock into his bride for the first time and consummated their marriage. She cringed as he broke her maidenhead and he paused.

“Sansa…”

“I’m fine. Keep going,” she said with only a slight tremor belying her words.

He’d fumbled with the ties on his small clothes as she quickly shed her gown and darted to the bed. They’d barely said a dozen words since entering the chamber ten minutes earlier.

And now, she was a maid no longer.

 _Just hurry up and finish so you can take care of her_.

Sansa lay beneath him under the furs with her shift pushed up to her hips, only exposing what had to be exposed. Her long legs were spread and he was between them, moving within her as carefully as he could stand, wishing he could make this pleasant for her. She did not cry at least. She kept breathing steadily in and out while he tried not to sound too much like a rutting beast and focused on his task.

He could’ve closed his eyes and imagined she was someone else, a woman he had once loved. But he would not pretend it was Ygritte’s cunt he was inside of now. He would not dishonor his wife by thinking of another woman.

Instead, he stared at her auburn hair that looked like silk, glowing like a copper kettle in the soft firelight coming from the hearth. He gently carded one hand through it, watching the strands move and ripple like flame in his hand. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of the act itself.

She was not very wet. He knew she was nervous and she had been a maid. But she was so tight and just wet enough…and it had been so very long. She gripped him so perfectly and her hair was so soft.

His eyes fluttered open just in time to see her pink tongue dart out and lick her soft lips. He groaned and returned his attention to her hair. _So sweet_ , his mind chanted. _So tight…and all mine_ , a more primitive side of him thought.

His hips pumped faster, the tingling tightness building in his balls as he neared his completion, and he fisted the bedding to keep from grabbing her and leaving marks on her porcelain skin.

But as he pounded harder than he had previously in his eagerness to peak, she gasped.

“Does it hurt?” he grunted, stilling at once.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop,” she said. 

He looked at her closely.  He didn't want to hurt her.  He could've laughed at the piqued expression on her face as he stayed perfectly still...right before she bucked her hips, rocking into him and bringing that jolt of longing screaming back.

“Gods,” he hissed and moved once more.

He felt her hand glide along his arm and he forced himself to look at her face again, into the Tully blue eyes of his cousin who he still thought of as his half-sister in his mind at times.

But her blue eyes had darkened a shade and her lips were parted and damp from where she’d licked them. Jon wanted to lick them and kiss them, too. He heard her breath hitch and her grip on his forearm tightened…and Jon shuddered and spilled at last.

He was breathing hard and leaned down to kiss her lips just once. She gave him a small smile in return.

“Are you alright?” he breathed into her hair.

“Yes. Thank you, Jon,” she said.

He rolled off her and wondered why she should be thanking him. Her bastard cousin that she’d been talked into marrying had just taken her maidenhead. She was a queen now but Jon knew she should've been queen anyway and deserved better than him.

She pulled her shift back down under the furs and pulled her knees up to her chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

She turned her head away as her cheeks blossomed with color before she answered. “The maester said it would help our chances if your seed could stay inside me for a while afterwards.”

“Oh…of course,” he said. _Of course. She only wishes for children, for heirs for House Stark and the North_.

He wanted those things as well. It was their duty. And while he loved his sister who was now his wife, this was a marriage of duty.

Jon rose to wash himself and brought back a cloth for her to wash as well. He saw her maiden’s blood on the inside of her thighs, just a trace. He knew what it was though he had never before bedded a maid. He had never bedded anyone before except Ygritte. But now he had bedded his wife and perhaps she would conceive.

_And will I be welcome in her bed again once that happens?_

 

* * *

 

 

“My red flower finished blooming last night,” Sansa said as they broke their fast a fortnight later.

“Your what?” he asked, clearly confused.

They had been talking amiably together about Winterfell and the great planting that was to commence now that spring had arrived.

“My…my moon blood,” she whispered as she felt her cheeks flame.

She should’ve realized that Jon would not know the fanciful term Queen Cersei had used for something that wasn’t a bit fanciful.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said blushing in response as he reached up and nervously scratched at his beard. “So…I suppose that we should…”

“Yes. You could come to me tonight…if you wish, my king.” Jon scowled. He didn’t like it when she called him that. She knew he didn’t but she just wanted to remind him of his rights as her husband and as her king. “I mean that I should like it if you would come to me tonight, Jon.”

“You’re certain?” he asked as his hand became a fist and his face looked like it was made of stone.

“Yes,” she replied and liked the way his gray eyes softened then and a smile touched his lips before he made his way out of the hall with a hurried excuse.

Sansa did not see him the rest of the day but she spent it in a state of nervous excitement, eager for night when Jon would come to her chambers.

Their wedding night…it had not been like she’d feared. It had pinched when he entered her and felt uncomfortable at first but her septa had been wrong about it being horrible. It had started to feel good right before he grunted loudly and she felt the warm, wetness of his seed filling her. That had felt good too in a way.

His sweet, soft kiss afterwards had filled her heart with hope.

_He will grow to love me. I will give him a son, two sons, a daughter, as many children as he wishes and he will learn to love me as more than a sister in time._

But then he had left her soon after he’d helped her wash, saying she would no doubt wish to rest. And then, he had only come once more to her bed.

The second time though had been better than the first. He had started at the same slow pace but he quickly became more passionate. He spilled faster than the first time and Sansa thought he seemed more at ease. She certainly had been more relaxed since she knew what to expect. She had almost felt bereft when he slid out of her sooner than expected and fetched her a cloth while she held her knees up against her chest.  He had left her soon after.

_Perhaps tonight will be even better.  Perhaps tonight he will stay._

After a long day of waiting, Sansa retired to her chambers after their evening meal. There were guests at Winterfell and the king was still entertaining his guests as the queen made her excuses to retire. She flashed him a brief smile though and he nodded in return.

She was unplaiting her hair after her bath and still in her dressing gown when he knocked. She bid him to enter and his eyes went wide when he spied her.

“I’m sorry. I meant to be ready for you,” she said as she hurriedly worked to undo her braids and grabbed her brush.

“Stop,” he said. “You needn’t rush. I don’t mind waiting.”

Sansa put down the brush and ran her fingers through her hair. “Would you care for some ale?” she asked.

“No. I had more than enough at the feast. May I just sit and watch you?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

Sansa turned back to her mirror and began brushing, counting out the strokes like her mother had done when she was little.

“It smells nice in here,” Jon said quietly. “You always smell nice but it’s a different fragrance tonight.”

“I added some lavender oil to my bath,” she said shyly. “Lady Cerwyn brought it to me as a gift.”

His eyes stayed on her the whole time. She knew because she could see him watching her in the mirror. It sent a shiver of something like anticipation coursing through her.

“Sansa…how often would you like me to come to your bed?” he asked.

“As often as you like, Jon.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“The maester said my chances of conceiving would be greater if you came to me several times between my moonblood.”

Why did he look disappointed by that answer?

“Conceiving…yes, of course,” he said heavily.

 _Does he think I only want this out of duty? Does he think I wouldn’t want him otherwise?_ Sansa decided to show him otherwise.

When her hair was shining like molten fire, she rose from her seat and removed her gown. She wore no shift underneath it.

Jon’s eyes were wide as saucers and he looked up at her questioningly before his eyes roamed every inch of her pale flesh.

“You’re naked,” he said in a dear tone of wonder.

She couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Yes…quite naked. I thought you might like to see me, all of me. I thought that husbands and wives would do that together.”

“Yes,” he said in a strangled voice before he looked away.

“Do you not like to see me?” she asked.

He rose to his feet and walked the few feet over to her. “I love to see you, Sansa. I only fear that my appetites might carry me away. I wouldn’t wish to be too rough and hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me, Jon,” she said, daring to stroke his bearded face.

He kissed her palm and then reached to embrace her. No one’s arms could feel so nice around her.

“Will you lay with me, my wife?” he asked.

“Yes.”

That night was the first time he made her peak.

He kissed and suckled her breasts, long before he entered her. Sansa had not known such an act could bring her pleasure. His tongue had sent the most delightful sparks singing through her body straight to her womanhood it seemed. She rubbed her legs together, relishing a building, throbbing ache.

His warm, callused hand stroked her thigh and then crept upward. Sansa felt dizzy when he touched her. He made the strangest sound, almost like a whimper and whispered she was wet.

“Do you like that?” she asked shyly.

“Aye, very much,” he replied before he kissed her deep and passionately on the mouth. He entered her quickly afterward. He kept his eyes on her the whole time as he grasped her hips and moved within her. “Sansa, my wife…my sweet girl,” he cried as his movements became more rushed and frenzied.

Something about hearing her name falling from his lips in that husky tone made her feel warm inside. His movements, the budding, sweet ache between her legs, the pleasant pressure of his weight on top of her, him calling her name…it became too much to bear. A delicious sense of urgency built low in her belly and spread downward.

“ _Ohhh_ …Jon,” she said uncertainly as she grasped his shoulders. “I’m…it’s good…it’s… _unnn_ …”

“Yes,” he urged while nuzzling at her neck now. “Come for me, Sansa.”

She moved her hands from his shoulders and twisted them through his hair. He moved his mouth back to capture her mouth again. She felt his tongue moving against hers, just as his cock moved within the walls of her cunny.

She gasped his name and he pulled back enough to watch her face. She soared. She fell.

“Jon…oh, yes. Yes!” she wept, never expecting it could feel like this.

“Sansa…you’re so beautiful. My Sansa… _ungh_!” he shouted as he spilled.

They lay there together, sweating and sated for a time. Sansa was naked as her name day in his arms but she didn’t feel exposed and embarrassed like she’d imagined she might. She felt safe and loved and complete.

She nestled into his arms. “Jon?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“I like you coming to my bed.”

“I like coming to your bed, too,” he chuckled.

“Why don’t you come every night?”

“Because I figured you wouldn’t…I won’t force you, Sansa. And you’d said when we agreed to marry that it would only be doing our duty for the good of the North. When I offered to keep our marriage to one in name only, you said we must produce heirs. I thought you wouldn’t want me in your bed beyond that.”

“Well…if I made you feel that way, I was wrong. I could accept a marriage of duty with you but I…I’d like more than that. And I thought you didn’t want to marry me.”

“I didn’t at first. I didn’t want to trap you in a marriage of duty. I wanted you to find love and happiness.” She sighed and rolled away. “I was stupid, Sansa. I can give you those things if you’ll let me. I love you and we can make this marriage more than a duty.”

She smiled and turned back to him. “So, if I conceive…”

“It won’t keep me out of your bed,” he said kissing her shoulder and pulling her back close again.

“It could be your bed, too,” she whispered.

“Aye, it could. I’d like that, my wife.”


End file.
